


Crashing into Orbit

by goodbyelover



Category: GOT7
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crime Fighting, Hopeful Ending, Jackson is fluent in emoji, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Monsters, Pining, Secret Identity, Sparring, hints of markgyeom - Freeform, jackbam are humans but nobody else is, jjp are dating it just doesn't come up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyelover/pseuds/goodbyelover
Summary: Youngjae's just trying his best, grasping at the threads of two separate lives to try and stitch them together. Sometimes he's just a teenager with teenage problems - grades, friends, and field-trips.The rest of the time he's secretly part of the local band of crime fighters.None of this is made easier by how much his best friend Jackson is into his alter-ego.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Jackson Wang
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51
Collections: OBSCURE SORROWS FIC FEST





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Obscure Sorrows Fic Fest for the word: The Meantime - n. the moment of realization that your quintessential future self isn’t ever going to show up, which forces the role to fall upon the understudy, the gawky kid for whom nothing is easy, who spent years mouthing their lines in the wings before being shoved into the glare of your life, which is already well into its second act.
> 
> WHOOF It is here. This is the longest completed thing I've written in 7 years and also: I love jackjae
> 
> Biggest thanks to @maricolous for being my beta.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“I’m just saying that I think Jupiter is the _coolest,_ ” Jackson says emphatically, smacking his hands down on the textbook. Youngjae can see the pages trying valiantly not to rip under the force of Wang Jackson Doing The Most All The Time. 

Bambam snorts, flicks his fingers dismissively. “Okay, but like… Ghost is way more powerful, like… canonically so.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be studying?” Youngjae asks helpfully, pauses, and then follows up with “Is it canon if it’s like… real life?”

Neither of them seem to pay him mind, which is more common than one would think for a band of friends, but also, Jackson is like a bulldog after his favorite toy whenever they get onto _this_ specific topic.

“Power isn’t everything,” Jackson insists. “Also like… Ghost’s shit is _creepy_ . Nothing should be able to move like that. So creepy. Jupiter’s really cool and _not_ creepy. Like super cool. The way he moves and everything goes like… electric blue? It’s kinda pretty.”

The government referred to them as ‘Sentinels’ but the name hadn’t stuck, at least not in this city. Instead, the Freak Watch had loads of unofficial merch, a mascot, and more, having become wildly popular since their appearance a few years prior. _#freakspot_ was a frequently trending hashtag, accompanied by cell phone footage, photos, and wild tales. The city’s tourism had significantly increased as vacationers came in to try and catch a glimpse. Sometimes it was hard to separate fact from fiction, but nobody cared much because the Freak Watch basically _was_ a fiction.

Their very own group of superheroes, but they came with their very own superhero sized problems. Crime was increasing, and not just the petty felon stuff, but those strangely impossible things like zombies and rock-goblins and at least one angry gelatinous blob. 

“-- and that is why Jupiter is the the best,” Jackson says conclusively, as if this is what he’s there for, to extol the virtues of the Freak Watch’s resident astro boy, rather than to help with Youngjae and Bambam’s homework like he’d promised. It’s the whole reason they’re sprawled out in Bambam’s bedroom, but they’d slid off topic thirty minutes in and had never recovered. Youngjae’s a bit rueful - his grades have started slipping recently. 

Bambam doesn’t seem to mind as much - his grades aren’t great, but they are passable and that’s good enough for him. “Just admit you’re biased and go.”

The three of them make an odd group. Jackson, a year above the other two, an internationally competitive athlete, high school sweetheart. Bambam is on the other end, being the babiest of them all, finally growing into all his gangly limbs, and universally adored.

Then there’s Youngjae, and Youngjae isn’t even being self-deprecating when he considers himself fairly average. A middle. That’s Youngjae. He keeps to himself, his grades are pretty meh, nobody particularly dislikes him, and that’s how it’s been his entire high school experience. It’s not the worst thing to happen.

It works though, the three of them. Jackson appreciates that neither of them seem particularly awed by his success in life, Bambam thrives in the easy acceptance the other two offer, and Youngjae feels the most alive when he has Jackson and Bambam at his side.

Except maybe when they get stuck on topics he’s not really interested in discussing, though he’d never begrudge them for it. Just. His _grades._

Youngaje’s maybe a little grateful when his phone buzzes, not even needing to pull it out to know who’s messaging him. “I gotta go,” he says, pulling his textbooks towards him, shoving them into his backpack. “Dad needs help with some projects in the kitchen.”

Able to do nothing in halves, Jackson’s face falls dramatically. “Already? You never hang out with us anymore.”

“Yeah, he’s working you like a dog, you should make him pay you,” Bambam says sympathetically. 

“He just really wants to do the house renovations himself and Mom’s worried if he does it on his own,” Youngjae says, and the lie slides so easily off his tongue, it’s effortless. “Let's do something on Friday?” 

Appeased, Jackson holds his fist out for a bump. “You better mean that.” 

“I do,” Youngjae says, grinning, fist bumping back. He might have to get into a shouting match for it, but doesn’t he deserve one night out with his friends? But it’s never really been a question of deserving, and he sets that thought aside for the moment as he leaves Bambam’s house, walking in the direction of home for two blocks before abruptly veering left.

It wouldn’t do to be late, after all.

***

“Good evening, Jupiter,” Jinyoung says as Youngjae walks into the bunker. 

“No made up names if we’re not out,” Youngjae immediately answers, dropping his backpack by the doorway and shrugging out of his jacket. “I am not calling you _Puppeteer._ ”

Jinyoung pouts the tiniest bit and flicks his fingers. Youngjae should expect it by now, but he’s unlacing his boots and then his fingers are yanking on the laces so hard that he goes toppling over with a _thud._

“You are such an asshole,” Youngjae says from where he ends sprawled on the floor, and Jinyoung looks pleased with himself. 

“I know,” he says, and then looks pointedly at the backpack. “You know that Jaebum and I would be more than happy to help with homework, Youngjae.” 

It’s a conversation they’ve had more than a dozen times and Youngjae’s response is never going to change. He knows he’s being stubborn and mulish and making it harder for everyone, but he still picks himself up and squares his jaw. “No. I want to do it this way.”

“Suit yourself. Boss wants to talk before you head down.”

“Funny way to say ‘ _my dad_ ’,” Youngjae shoots back, and this time when Jinyoung’s hand flies out, he’s prepared, his entire body blazing bright blue, as Jinyoung’s invisible puppet strings hit a barrier of sapphire electricity. In a split second, the barrier breaks, racing back up the strings to explode at Jinyoung’s fingertips like mini fireworks, not enough to hurt badly, but enough to sting, if Jinyoung’s yelp is anything to go by.

Jackson’s right though. It _is_ rather pretty. Youngjae’s pretty pleased with himself as his eyes fade from sharp gleaming blue to their normal brown.

“Whatever you’re doing, you’re probably not supposed to be!” Yugyeom yells from somewhere on the lower level and Jinyoung and Youngjae both laugh before Youngjae heads off to the office tucked in the back of the bunker. 

The Director sits behind a massive oak desk, glasses sat low on his nose, peering down at one of the many screens arrayed across his workspace. “Hey Youngjae,” he greets, looking up with a warm smile. “How are you doing today?”

“Just fine, sir,” Youngjae says, settling in a seat across him easily, as if he hadn’t just lit the Director’s son up. “You wanted to see me?”

“I just wanted to let you know that we’ve cleared your fieldtrip,” the Director says, because of course Youngjae couldn’t go anywhere without massive amounts of red-tape. Nothing could be normal for Choi Fucking Youngjae. At least he was able to go. More than once in the past two years Youngjae had been deemed too hazardous to let out of the city limits, having to fake sudden colds or migraines or, legendarily, a broken arm for a summer trip he couldn’t get cleared for.

Youngjae isn’t bitter.

The Director continues, calmly acknowledging and moving past the frustration present in Youngjae’s expression. “We’ll be assigning a handler to keep an eye on things and Mark and Yugyeom will be in the vicinity.”

“That’s... Fine,” Youngjae says. Handlers suck, because they’re anal about _everything_ but it could easily be worse. They could finally pull him out of school like they’d been wanting to since his metamorphosis. “Thank you, sir.”

“I know you don’t think it’s ideal but we’re doing our best,” the Director says as kindly as possible. He’s a stern man at times, but not unfeeling. He’s probably the only reason Youngjae was afforded as much normalcy as he fights for.

“I know,” Youngjae says, without much enthusiasm. Best is not always good enough, and he’s brooding as he leaves the office, but he pauses in the doorway and turns quickly. “Can I take Friday night off? I’ll make up time on the weekend, but I–” he stops himself before he explains, not wanting to sound so juvenile.

‘ _Please sir, I want to be able to hang out with my friends and be a normal boy and maybe quit being part of the Freak Watch, oh, excuse me, the Sentinels._ ’ 

Pathetic.

Still, the Director acquiesces easily enough, doesn’t push. “Just let Jaebum know, alright?”

Nodding one more time, Youngjae closes the door behind him and then reaches out, hand crackling bright blue before he twists it into a fist, blue sparking around his hand, his surroundings shifting from the top floor of the bunker down to the training room, making sure to pull himself to somewhere outside the safety lines of the main floor. Yugyeom and Mark are going at it, but Youngjae pays them no mind, instead heading over to the team’s favorite couch to join Jaebum.

“Hey there,” Jaebum greets, looking away from where he’s monitoring the other two to examine Youngjae’s face. “Did something happen?”

If Mark is _canonically_ the most powerful member of the Freak Watch, Jaebum is easily the weakest. As a boy who can talk to cats and turn himself into a mega-panther, he’s more suited for reconnaissance and intel. Even so, he’s the heart of the team and they are fiercely loyal to him above all others.

One shouldn’t play favorites on a team, but Jaebum might be Youngjae's favorite anyway, a fact stretching all the way back to the day Youngjae joined as a clearly overwhelmed fourteen year old. Jaebum had welcomed him easily, taken him under his wing to mentor him as his body went through change after change after change, had guided and protected him until Youngjae could fend for himself. He’d been Youngjae’s entire world for a time, and while that flame would never blaze brighter, Youngjae would probably always hold a candle for their leader.

“It’s nothing,” Youngjae says, waving away Jaebum’s concern, just as Yugyeom comes flying through the air to smack hard into the wall just feet away from the two of them, sliding down to land in a heap, his dusky gold wings akimbo.

“Are you serious?” Yugyeom says from somewhere within the heap.

“Focus and stop pulling your punches!” Mark calls from where he’s stood in the middle of the training grounds, the shadows he currently employed circling him like a pack of nightmare wolves. “You can do better than this.”

Yugyeom sits up gingerly, looking sullen as he examines how crumpled some of his feathers are now. “Jaebum, make him chill.”

“I don’t think anyone can do that,” Jaebum says, grinning but sympathetic as he goes to help sort Yugyeom out. Mysteriously, Yugyeom has opted out of both training gear and a shirt for the night and his shoulder has a nice long scrape that will sting for another hour or so. (A perk of being a Freak Watcher: accelerated healing. He’ll be fine before he goes to bed.)

“Give me a minute, I’ll partner up,” Youngjae tells Mark, heading off to the locker rooms to change. He’ll talk to Jaebum about Friday later. 

None of their training suits were as flashy as their field ones, instead black and practical, but Youngjae’s are all built to help facilitate energy manipulation – no accidentally burning off his sleeves anymore. He tugs one on, feeling it mold against his body, before jogging back out to where Mark’s waiting.

The thing is, Youngjae gets why people find Mark disturbing. The shifting inky black of the shadows he harnesses are made of void and nightmares and they lurk in the darks of Mark’s eyes. On the field, he’s ruthless and bloodthirsty in ways the others aren’t – knows the value of a double-tap or decapitation. Video footage of Ghost on the internet is harder to come by, gets flagged much sooner than anyone else’s. There are more than enough reasons to list why, despite being the oldest, Mark isn’t the one leading the Freak Watch. 

None of that changes the fact that he is _impossibly_ beautiful. Youngjae can’t help but watch when Mark’s in motion, all liquid grace and feather-light danger.

There’s more than that though. With their identities hidden, nobody knows any other side of Mark besides Ghost. Nobody knows how fiercely protective he is, how much time he’s spent quietly taking care of the team. Once, Youngjae had broken his favorite headphones by accident and a brand new replacement had shown up in his bag the next day and Mark had never owned up to it, but he’d been the only other person awake at the time. People don’t know that despite having a short temper, he’s the sweetest of them all when they’re not in the trenches.

He’s not very sweet right now though, the shadows he’d pulled from the corners of the room swirling around him, shapeless and menacing. “I’m just getting warmed up, Choi.”

“Tough luck,” Youngjae scoffs, rolling his shoulders as crackling blue energy surrounded him, his eyes turning azure and firelit. He just might have some pent up emotions he needs to work off, both hands thrusting forward as soon as Jaebum signals, two beams of energy erupting from his palms that Mark has to duck and roll to avoid.

It’s going to be a good night.

***

When Youngjae finally drags himself to bed, he’s aching in a way that only getting his ass handed to him by Mark brings, collapsing face first into his bed before fumbling for his phone. There’s a slew of messages, a good chunk from the group chat he has with Bambam and Jackson - something about a pair of sneakers - but he also sees a red notification next to Jackson’s name alone, and he tabs into that first. 

WANG👑: hey 🥺

WANG👑: sorry we didn’t get 2 studying sooner 😭👉👈

WANG👑: hope everything’s going good with ur dad!!! 🥺🥺🥺

WANG👑: lets do a 📺 on friday???

WANG👑: that way it’s like

WANG👑: 🤗🤗🤗 easier 4 u

WANG👑: wyt? 🤔

Despite his exhaustion, Youngjae smiles, texts back a quick thumbs up and ‘good night!’. He appreciates that Jackson took the time to check in on him, feeling warm and boneless as he reads back over the messages one last time before tucking his phone away. Tomorrow will come soon enough, and he, Bambam, and Jackson always eat lunch together.

***

“Dude,” Bambam says as soon as Youngjae and Jackson have sat down, thrusting his phone in their general direction. “Did you see what Ghost did last night?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, but he still takes the phone to watch the footage a news channel had managed to catch, immediately engrossed. It had been an eventful evening – one that Youngjae had thankfully been allowed to sleep through – and Mark had been dispatched around midnight with Jinyoung as backup to take care of what seemed to be a grossly over-equipped bank robbery. Mark had looked extremely pleased with himself over breakfast, but he’d also nearly fallen asleep into his toast.

“See, it’s still just so fucking creepy,” Jackson says, scrolling through the footage. The volume is low enough that it’s not broadcasted to the entire room, but Youngjae can hear the garish sound of metal being flattened by something massive. “That is unnatural.”

“You’re just a Ghost anti,” Bambam huffs, and Youngjae has resigned himself to their conversations veering back here often, but it seems to be increasingly frequent. “Jupiter hasn’t even been spotted in like two weeks.”

Youngjae can feel his jaw twitch, wanting to defend himself – school’s been kicking his ass and he’s already losing! And it makes more sense to send out the older boys more often anyway, it’s been that way for ages, _especially_ since trouble is more likely to happen at night – but he doesn’t have to do anything, because Jackson does it for him.

“I’m sure Jupiter’s got other things to do. And Ghost _always_ comes out at night, maybe he’s just being an attention hog.”

(Mark comes out at night because he’s _virtually unstoppable_ once the sun is down.)

Bambam looks at Jackson like he’s lost his mind. “That is so weird. You just think Jupiter’s got a nice ass.”

Jackson ponders this for a moment, mouth pursed and eyes screwed upwards. It makes him look like a puppy and it’s stupidly adorable. “He does have a nice ass. Almost as nice as Puppeteer’s.”

“ _Pardon_ ?” Youngjae asks, his voice pitching slightly, and he can feel heat flush to his cheeks because _what?_

“Jackson’s just an ass man out here while the world is ending,” Bambam says as solemnly as he can manage before cackling. “God, you left early yesterday, Jae, but he wouldn’t stop going _on_ and _on,_ I think he called him a ‘cutie-hottie’ at least twice.”

“... Why?” Youngjae manages as Jackson lunges across the table to tussle with Bambam.

It’s not that Bambam’s wrong. Jackson’s pretty free-wheeling and kind of a horndog and thinks plenty of people are hot for at least fifteen minutes, but…

But Youngjae’s never been included in that group of people before.

It’s always been a fundamental divide, the way Jackson’s basically Prince Charming walking straight out of a disney film with a beauty that’s both classic and timeless. Bambam matches him well, now that he’s starting to grow into himself, all long legs, strong nose, and charming personality. Youngjae hadn’t really considered himself much of anything prior to his metamorphosis, but Jackson just said he has a nice ass.

He’s not sure what to do with that information.

Jackson has Bambam in a headlock and the only reason he lets go is because they have to head back to classes, making sure to spend an extra ten seconds giving Bambam a thorough noogie. 

Bambam looks like a baby chick, his hair flying in all different directions. “You’re dead to me.”

“Love you too. Tomorrow night, my place, right? Right?” Jackson throws a double peace sign at the two of them. “See ya guys.”

***

That night, while Youngjae’s changing in the locker room, he can’t help but turn in front of the mirror to examine the way the suit clings to his body. “Do you think I have a nice ass?” 

Yugyeom’s the only other one around, shirtless again, the ink of his wing tattoo stark against his shoulder blades. “Your ass is decent, I guess.” 

The lukewarm response has Youngjae’s eyes narrowing as he turns to his teammate. “I forgot you prefer boys with _no_ ass,” he sniffs, and Yugyeom jolts forward to slap a hand over his mouth. 

“You can’t say that out loud!” Yugyeom hisses, flushing a burning bright red. 

Youngjae promptly licks Yugyeom’s hand, with as much spit as possible, his teammate yelping in disgust as he yanks his hand back. “Why the fuck are you _so gross.”_

“I retract my question, you’re a terrible judge,” Youngjae says, leaning in to try and lick Yugyeom’s shoulder, just to watch him flail back into the lockers.

It’s okay. Yugyeom could like his murder boys with no asses - Jackson had said Youngjae’s was nice.

***

Youngjae had forgotten that going to Jackson’s house meant _this._

This not being the fact that Jackson’s parents are rich and therefore their house is huge, or that Jackson has his own suite, or that Jackson’s tv more accurately resembles a mini movie theater. It’s not even Jackson’s parents being doting and lovely and easily treating Jackson’s friends as family regardless of how frequently they show up.

It’s that Youngjae’s staring at his own face on a poster on Jackson’s bedroom wall.

It’s not _really_ his face - their field gear includes masks and helmets, his identity well obscured, but it’s still meant to be Youngjae.The poster is gigantic, and it features all five of the Freak Watch like a movie poster, but smack dab in the middle is Jupiter, blue eyes aflame, hand thrown out with stars falling from his fingertips.   
  
It’s a pretty good piece. Youngjae wonders if Jackson had it custom made.

The poster isn’t the only piece of Jupiter scattered around Jackson’s room. There are several limited edition action figurines lining a bookshelf, accompanied by several graphic novels (Youngjae spots at least one that is fan-made and involves Jupiter being caught in a love triangle with Fang and Puppeteer, and boy, isn’t _that_ something Jackson would love to hear about). Youngjae can spot Jackson’s favorite pencil case, featuring Jupiter’s insignia, and that’s only at a first scan. Jackson probably owns Jupiter socks.

“Dibs!” Bambam yells as he throws himself on the couch set in front of the screen, remote in hand as he flips through Jackson’s library. 

“Can we skip the horror today?” Youngjae asks, frowning. “I’ve got a ton of work this weekend and I don’t want to go all no-sleep.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Jackson says, bumping their shoulders together before going to join Bambam.

“Is your dad still working on the kitchen?” Bambam asks as he scrolls through, and Youngjae is grateful to see that he’s picked family friendly animation.

“Yeah, I guess he decided to get really into it. Ripped out the sink and everything,” Youngjae says, pulling a face. He wonders how long he’ll be able to keep it up, using house renovations as an excuse to why they never go over to his place, why they never see his parents. He wonders if he can string it out until he graduates. 

‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’ wins first place, with ‘Big Hero 6’ queued up behind it as the three of them settle down amongst a small mountain of pillows and blankets. Youngjae can see a Jupiter throw pillow squashed in the corner. It’s kind of cute.

The movies slowly blur together the later it gets, and at some point Bambam’s dropped off, slumped against Jackson, asleep while swaddled up in a fluffy blanket. Youngjae’s following him, yawning, eyes drooping closed as he settles on Bambam’s shoulder, when he feels fingers stroke gently through his hair.

“You doing okay?” Jackson asks quietly.

Youngjae lifts his head to look at him, bleary and confused. “Yeah?” 

The way the tv screen casts Jackson’s profile in the softest of blues is hopelessly attractive. “It’s just… I dunno, you seem really distant lately,” he says, eyes like soft pools of warmth, as if Youngjae could just sink into them. “Just wondered if there was anything I could do.”

With nothing to cause distraction, Youngjae feels vulnerable, stripped naked as Jackson gazes at him, fingers ghosting against Youngje’s neck. He wonders what Jackson sees; knows that he can’t possibly see Jupiter, but does he see Youngjae here, tangled up and lost?

“It’s just… been hard, splitting between school and trying to help my dad,” Youngjae says, and he’s not normally ashamed of having to lie, but he can feel the heat prick at his throat, feel the guilt press behind his eyeballs. “Sorry.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

What right does Jackson have to be so earnest saying that?

Doesn’t he know how wrong he is?

“Yeah,” Youngjae says, manages a tiny grin just for Jackson, because Jackson is splendid, he’s fucking _magnificent_ , and he deserves more than Youngjae will ever be able to give him. “I know.”

Jackson finally smiles – god, that hits Youngjae like a sledgehammer – and flicks his ear before settling down with Bambam, attention turning back to the movie. He eventually drops off to sleep as well, gently snoring as the credits roll.

It takes hours for the lump of guilt to finally ease in Youngjae’s chest.

***

It’s the Friday evening before Youngjae’s field trip when the klaxon goes off, red lights flashing across the bunker’s lounge and training areas.

The Director’s voice comes on over the bunker’s speaker system. “Looks like something’s happening down at the river. Fang, Jupiter, Zephyr, you’re up.”

“If this is another blob, I quit,” Youngjae tells Jaebum as they all dash to the lockers, quickly shedding training gear to yank on their field suits. All of their suits are sleek and black but customized to fit their abilities and alter-egos. The shoulders have been removed from Yugyeom’s, giving his wings ease to appear from their tattoo, strips of gold winding around his arms to lend to the avenging angel image he has going for him. Jaebum’s suit is a lot more dressed down, made of stretchy, body-hugging synthetics that can mold to his body when he shifts, but his helmet has saber fangs attached, framing his strong jawline. 

Youngjae’s suit is probably the flashiest, the black offset by an intricate harness of shimmering blues strapped against his chest and down around his thighs, matched by boots that have been altered to help him fly. His helmet is designed to be elegant and show his eyes, everything sleek against his skin. There’s a swirling galaxy set against his chest along with his insignia.

It’s absolutely all for the publicity, but Youngjae kind of loved this part of it, of being Jupiter.

“We just need to keep it from getting to the city,” Jaebum says as the armored van races through the streets, taking them past sleepy suburbs and sprawling metropolitan life. “Zephyr takes the top, we’ll see if it has eyes or something sensory to mess with. Jupiter and I will run ground interference until we find what makes it tick.”

It’s a pretty standard plan, something Youngjae and Yugyeom could probably do in their sleep. “You got it,” Youngjae says, flashing Jaebum a smile before running a double check on his suit’s equipment. 

The armored van gets them as close as they can get safely and the three of them slide out, heading right towards the easily visible problem.

For what it’s worth, it’s not a blob monster.

What it looks like is a _trash_ monster instead.

It’s as if someone had broken a house and pasted the debris together to make a giant. Youngjae can see chunks of brick, what looks like a fridge door, and shattered pieces of a bathtub.

“Zephyr!” 

“On it.” Yugyeom launches for the sky, the wind picking up as he spreads his wings and leaves the ground behind, the trees surrounding them bending unnaturally, their old trunks creaking with age.

“Go,” Jaebum tells Youngjae, already flinging himself forward, black fur sprouting as he grows in size, until he’s the size of a tank. 

Youngjae obeys, blazing bright as he twists his fist, bringing him to the river banks directly in front of the monster. Out here, it’s empty enough that they’ll just cause damage to the power lines and roads, but if it gets any closer, they risk civilian casualties. 

The wind howls as Yugyeom directs a blistering gale at the creature, causing it to stumble a step, the ground shaking, but not stopping it in its tracks. It roars at him, monstrously loud.

Youngjae’s never had to try and slow something this big, but there really isn’t a choice as he grits his teeth and throws both hands up. Before him, a translucent forcefield appears, steadily growing to block the entire river’s breadth, bolts of blue light flashing through it.

“Steady,” Jaebum says in his ear, as he races behind the monster, trying to scope it from the ground. “You can do this.”

“It looks like there’s something in its head, I can see something glowing,” Yugyeom reports, trying to get closer, but for a monster made out of debris, it’s surprisingly agile, reaching out to try and swat him like a fly, Yugyeom’s wings helping him narrowly escape each blow. “I can distract it, but it’s gonna– wait, _fuck_.”

Youngjae doesn’t have to ask what it is, as the sound of chopper blades becomes clearly audible. The chopper flies in from the airfield, a local news banner splashed across the side.  
  
“Zephyr!” Jaebum yells.

“I can’t get closer!” Yugyeom yells back, still twisting out of the way of flailing limbs, his safety growing more precarious with each near miss.

Horrifyingly, the creature appears to have some level of intelligence, as it forces Yugyeom away enough that it can turn its attention to the louder, larger helicopter.

Youngjae swears as he drops the forcefield. _Stupid_ civilians. “Fuck.” 

Both of Youngjae’s hands begin to glow an intense, vibrant blue; an audible whirring sound surrounding him before he slaps his palms together, a concentrated blast of energy shooting out like a cannon. It clips into the monster’s shoulder, wreckage flying off in chunks, and that is enough to draw its attention away from the helicopter.

“Okay, big guy,” Youngjae says, hands still blazing. “Bring it.”

The creature lets out a rumbling roar of annoyance and throws itself at Youngjae, trying to body slam him to dust and Youngjae only just manages to throw a forcefield up in time. It _hurts_ when the monster makes contact, the shockwave that ran through his bones forcing a grunt of pain from him. 

“Youngjae, get out of there.” Jaebum’s in his ear. His voice is steady, but Youngjae can hear the undertone of panic.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Youngjae wheezes, and the barrier is on the verge of collapsing on him as he runs, trying to make it out from under the monster. The monster lifts itself up, slams back down even harder, and Youngjae feels the barrier crack, buckling under the sheer size of the monster and his own distraction as he pelts to freedom. 

He takes a flying leap and manages to clear the main body by inches, but something jagged is sticking out from the torso and Youngjae feels it rake across his side, cutting deep from his hip down his thigh. He goes down hard, as the monster slams flat where he used to be.

Pain ripples through him, wet and white-hot, and he can hear Jaebum yelling something, knows Yugyeom’s above him somewhere, the wind kicking up to a scream. It hurts so fucking badly, but Youngjae can’t let something like a wound keep him down and he rolls up to his feet, nearly falling over when he puts weight on his left leg.

Yugyeom’s high in the sky, every wind he can call to him blasting down at the monster, able to keep it pinned down now that it’s prone.   
  


“Boost me?” Jaebum asks, appearing at Youngjae’s side, and Youngjae’s dizzy, but he nods, reaches out, feels Jaebum rock back on his heels before Youngjae yanks forward, electric blue crackling around Jaebum as Youngjae sends him flying towards the head, where something is glowing red on its highest point. Jaebum rockets through the air, turning panther as he lands on its head. With his powerful jaw and brute strength, he rips the red gem out of the debris. 

There’s a moment where Youngjae dizzily worries they’ve been misled, that it’s a red herring, but once the gem dims and goes dark, the debris begins to fall apart, collapsing on itself and becoming nothing but garbage and brick once more.

Soon all that’s left is the lap of the river against its banks and the sound of a helicopter.

Yugyeom’s there to catch Youngjae when his knees buckle, hoisting him up in his arms. “I’ve got you,” Yugyeom says, and he sounds fragile as he carries Youngjae back to the van. There’s no need to linger, a cleanup crew already on stand-by. “You were great out there.”

“I was,” Youngjae says breathlessly, the pain and exhaustion hitting him like a freight train now that it’s over. He’s been through this enough that he knows he’s fine, he’ll just need some time to recover, but he’s too tired to fight Yugeom off, even though he doesn’t want Yugyeom to worry.

“That’s so much blood,” Yugyeom whispers.

Jaebum climbs into the van last, immediately coming to Youngjae to check him over. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Youngjae tries to tell them both, bats ineffectually as Jaebum fusses quietly over him.   
  
“You scared me,”Jaebum says quietly, hands shaking ever so slightly against Youngjae’s skin, but it’s enough to make Youngjae stop. He can let Jaebum do this for himself. It wasn’t even that close of a call, but it’s a reminder that they lead dangerous lives. 

Youngjae closes his eyes as Jaebum strokes his fingers through his hair, listens to the beating of Yugyeom’s heart against his cheek.

There’s a small swarm of medical staff waiting for him when they return to the bunker, along with the Director. Yugyeom lets out a strangled noise, tries to hold on to Youngjae when the nurses reach out to take him. He only backs down when Mark appears, touches his shoulder. “They’re just here to help,” Mark whispers gently and Yugyeom relents, letting them move Youngjae on to a stretcher. Youngjae watches blearily as Mark takes Yugyeom’s hands and quietly leads him away.

Jaebum stays close by, he and Jinyoung mirror shadows as Youngjae is examined. Youngjae’s exhausted enough that he doesn’t even have an outburst of energy when one of the nurses accidentally jostles his leg.

In the end, the solution is the same as it always is - wrap him in bandages from hip to knee, tuck him in bed, and let his strange biology do the rest of the work. He’d probably be fine before the weekend was over.

He’s only half awake as Jaebum and Jinyoung crawl on either side of him, both hooking an arm over him, Jaebum on his injured side like a protective shield. It’s warm and comforting and so much like when Youngjae had first joined the Freak Watch.

“Glad you’re okay, baby bear,” Jinyoung whispers as Youngjae drifts off to sleep, Jaebum humming a soft agreement.

***

The Director visits him late Saturday night, after the doctors have peeled the bandages from a wound that has knitted itself back together. “I think it’d be best if you stayed back–”

“No,” Youngjae says sharply. He won’t have this taken from him.

“Alright, alright, I figured I’d try,” the Director says, hands up in the air in surrender. “Please continue resting.”

***

It’s strange, Youngjae decides, being in a city that hosts other Sentinels. Here, they’re a solemn affair, still splashed over billboards and screens, but it’s all grave announcements of public safety and declarations of protection. Neither of these Sentinels look like they’d appreciate being asked for autographs or having chibi fanart made of them.

“We should get something good for lunch,” Bambam says beside him, scanning the plaza as their class is led towards the museum they’re spending the morning in, teachers ushering them along. “Something we can’t find back home, since we drove so fucking far to get here.”

“Sure,” Youngjae says. “I’m good with anything that doesn’t have cucumber.”

In his ear, Mark snorts.

“This place is weird, right?” Jackson asks, nodding towards a nearby advertisement, showing an extremely serious Sentinel overlaid with ‘Safety Is a Choice You Make.’

“The weirdest,” Yugyeom agrees, despite Jackson absolutely not being able to hear him.

“I guess,” Bambam says, where Jackson _can_ actually hear him.

“Please keep the lines clear unless necessary. Zephyr and Ghost, you are here on stand-by,” a crisp voice says, and Youngjae’s ear falls silent.

Youngjae resists pulling a face. Handlers. He doesn’t even think this one introduced themselves. There’s no need to be so strict, Youngjae is good about juggling the edges of his two lives overlapping. Still, he’s been careful with the words he says, knowing that even playfully japing at this city’s Sentinels could get him a scolding.

Beside him, Jackson’s fidgeting, still looking at the advertisement but not really focusing on it. “Do you think he’s okay?” he asks abruptly.  
  
“Who?” Bambam asks, but in a way that says he already knows what Jackson’s going to say and he’s bracing for it.

“You know…” Jackson says and ducks his head. It’s a curious sight. Jackson is normally so shameless and confident, never letting his apprehension show, but his mouth tugs down at the corners. “Jupiter.”

If not for Jackson looking genuinely worried, Youngjae would be amused – would think to himself that if Jackson is so concerned about Jupiter’s well-being, he could stop walking everywhere so fast. Youngjae’s healed, but his leg is still feeling sore enough that it’s hard to force himself not to limp. But Jackson’s eyes are shadowed and the line of his mouth tight.

Youngjae would tell him he’s fine, if only he could. The voices in his ear are completely silent.

“I’m sure he’s fine, they’ve all been through worse,” Bambam says, patting Jackson on the shoulder and looking surprisingly serious. The mood has changed so rapidly. “Remember that time someone broke Zephyr’s wings? That looked _awful_ , but everything looks fine now.”

Jackson doesn’t look very reassured, but their chaperone is waving them to join the rest of the class, so he lets it go. “I just… I really hope he’s okay.”

“Oh shit,” Yugyeom whispers.

That lump of guilt has returned to Youngjae’s stomach as they’re finally ushered into the museum.

***

Jackson’s spirits seem to have lifted by the time they’re given free time to flock around the plaza, throwing his arms around Bambam and Youngjae’s shoulders as they exit the museum. “I know you said get something new, but I’m _really_ feeling like pizza, you know?”

“You’re the worst,” Bambam complains, but it’s not an actual refusal and they both allow Jackson to drag them to the pizza parlour across the square. 

It’s at times like these when Youngjae knows that it’s worth it, worth splitting his life in two. It feels right, being here, squashed into a booth meant for two, even with Bambam half on his lap. It’s fine. Great, even. He’d do it all over again, get into every shouting match he had with the Director, just to have this sliver of time with his friends. 

He watches as Jackson and Bambam start flicking chili flakes at each other until Jackson accidentally snorts one up his nose and nearly dies. That’s not a _good_ thing, but it makes Youngjae laugh harder than he has in weeks. Eventually Jackson recovers to smile back at him, eyes watering and nose dripping.

Bambam pulls out his phone, poses cutely so he can capture Jackson’s face. Youngjae hooks his chin on Bambam’s shoulder, flashes a smile.

“Noooo,” Jackson whines, reaching over to try and swat the phone out of Bambam’s hand. “Come on, man, come on.”

“Come on, man, come on,” Bambam parrots and smacks his hand away. They bicker for a while longer, Bambam editing the photo to fit his aesthetics – which includes adding a green snot drip to Jackson’s nose. Youngjae watches and feels unendingly fond. 

Jackson’s phone goes off right as they've rejoined the others, and he answers it immediately. “Mama? Hey!” He listens to her reply, turns to them both and mouths ‘ _I’ll be right back_ ’, before walking away for more privacy.

Youngjae flashes him a quick thumbs up. Jackson doesn’t get to see his mom very often, everyone will understand if he was a couple minutes late. 

“You seem in a better mood,” Bambam says as they wait for the chaperones to do a headcount.

Youngjae shrugs, but he feels it too. Even with the twinge in his leg, even with the pressure of his slipping grades, it’s been a _great_ day. He wants it to last forever.

“Alright, everyone, let’s–” their teacher starts to say, but doesn’t get to finish as the ground lurches violently beneath them all. Several classmates topple over, crying out. Other patrons are screaming as unsecured items crash to the ground. 

There’s a sound of cement and metal breaking, though it sounds like it’s some distance away, maybe a handful of blocks. Something roars, loud and menacing.

“Trouble emerging from the sewers in front of the historical district,” the handler confirms within seconds. “Ghost, head to those coordinates. Zephyr, remain on stand-by, the skies are clear. Jupiter, remain with the civilians. Local Sentinel is being dispatched, you should be able to evacuate southward without trouble.”

“Got it,” Mark says.

Whatever has emerged from the sewers is _tall_ , tall enough that Youngjae can see its shadow amongst the sky scrapers, but he can also see that shadow turn jet black and opaque as Ghost yanks on it, turning it into a monster of his own making to begin forcibly strangling the monster.

Youngjae takes stock. His class is shaken and terrified, but none of them have taken off in terror. The teachers are already taking headcount and immediately directing everyone out of the square and towards the streets southward. Bambam’s fine, if frozen stiff but – _fuck._

“Jackson!” 

The handler’s voice comes sharp and clear in Youngjae’s ear. “Jupiter, you need to evacuate.” 

Youngjae whips back to where Jackson had walked off, but he can’t find him. The ground gives another violent lurch, glass shattering as some of the buildings begin to crumble to the upheavals. A nearby lamppost falls sideways into a shopfront. 

“Jupiter, _evacuate._ ”

“Where is he?” Bambam asks, clutching onto Youngjae as they both scan around, unwilling to leave without him, even as one of the teachers hurries over to get them to leave. “Jackson? Jackson! There!” 

Bambam throws a hand out, points, and Youngjae finally sees Jackson pelting across the strip, hands thrown over his head as he races back towards him. It makes Youngjae’s heart flood with relief, until the monster in the distance lets out a horrid screech, the sound wet and _dying_ , and Ghost must have killed it, because Youngjae can hear it hit the ground before he feels it.

It makes the ground rock one last time, abrupt and explosive. Youngjae watches in horror as Jackson stumbles and falls to his knees, off-kilter. At the same time, one of the nearby buildings crumbles, debris breaking off to rain down on the plaza and Youngjae realizes something.

Jackson isn’t going to make it.  
  


“Jackson!” Youngjae yells.

Bambam’s eyes are wide. “What are you doing?”

“ _Fuck._ Stay here,” Youngjae says, pushing Bambam back towards safety, ignoring his cry of alarm as blue bursts from his fingers, bubbling around his friend before extending to the stragglers who haven’t evacuated yet, before he turns back to Jackson, praying he can make it in time, even as he sees rubble about to crush him.

“Jackson!” 

Youngjae closes his fist, pulls himself through the space between the two of them with a speed he’s never managed before, and he’s throwing his arms around Jackson, a blue forcefield blazing up around them just as the rubble hits, the barrier crackling electric blue as it shields the two of them.

Youngjae holds tight to Jackson’s shoulders, curled protectively over him as the brick and concrete slides off the barrier, hitting the ground around them with heavy _thuds._ It’s not as much pressure as the creature he’d battled mere days before but he tightens his grip around Jackson anyway.

An eerie stillness settles over the plaza when the last piece settles. There’s no more screaming, no more roaring, no more crumbling buildings. There are sirens in the distance and the sound of Youngjae’s harsh breathing as he and Jackson slowly uncurl from each other.

“Are you okay?” Youngjae asks quietly.

Jackson looks up at Youngjae, eyes wild and confused.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re– Youngjae, you’re–” but he can’t quite seem to get the words out.

Youngjae realizes in that moment that his eyes are still burning azure, the two bubbles he’d conjured unmistakable, as is the soft blue glowing around his hands. He looks down at them now, knowing that something has just fundamentally changed, that from the moment he wrapped up Bambam in blue and raced to Jackson’s side, there would be no going back to how things had been before.

“... I’m sorry,” he whispers, letting both barriers drop. 

“Youngjae! Jackson!” Bambam immediately barrels towards them. He’s not the only one though. There are still a couple dozen people left in the plaza and they’re all staring. Youngjae spots more than one phone out, pointing straight at him. 

Not at Jupiter.

At _Choi Youngjae_.

“Oh fuck,” Yugyeom says in his ear.

***

It’s three days later when Jinyoung sticks his head into Youngjae’s room. “Dad has one of your friends in his office,” he says. “Thought you’d like to know.”

Youngjae slides out of bed and quickly throws on some sweats. He hasn’t left the bunker since the news broke and he’s ready to crawl out of his skin.

He makes it upstairs just as Jackson steps out of the Director’s office. “Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it,” he says, shaking the man’s hand. The office door shuts and Jackson turns and sees Youngjae, startling half a step back. “Oh.”

Youngjae supposes it’s too much to hope they could just go back to how things used to be, and keeps his distance. “Hey Jackson.”

“Hey,” Jackson says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looks around at the bunker walls, the lounge, and the large staircase down to the lower level before he finally looks back at Youngjae. “It’s been… pretty crazy, huh?” he offers.

Grinning tentatively, Youngjae nods. “You could say that.”

It had been a pretty wild three days.

Normally Ghost would be a leading headline – ‘ _Sentinel unexpectedly crosses regional boundary to vanquish grisly beast!_ ’ – but it turned out the general public was _fascinated_ that the Freak Watch included at least one seventeen year old. There was some pretty severe backlash going on, with several high profile politicians and celebrities now demanding that all other Sentinels be identified and disclosed over rising ethical concerns.

Youngjae’s sure that will all catch up to him, but right now, he’s more concerned that Jackson hasn’t answered any of his text messages. Jackson, one of the last threads left of his regular life.

“I’m really sorry,” he says, just as Jackson blurts out “Youngjae, I’m really–”

Jackson breaks off and looks surprised. “Sorry for _what_?” he demands.

Youngjae gestures around helplessly. “For lying to you? It was _years,_ and I just kept–”

“Hey,” Jackson interrupts, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath, looks at Youngjae properly. “I get it, Youngjae. I really do. This is all… of course you had to lie about it.”

Youngjae sinks down on the nearest chair and lets out the breath he was holding. 

“You saved my life, you know,” Jackson says quietly, also sinking down onto a seat. The distance between them doesn’t feel quite as insurmountable as it had moments before. “I don’t think I could feel anything but grateful.”

“I guess I did do that,” Youngjae says. He’d have done it for anyone, truly, but he’d do it especially for Jackson.

Jackson looks thoughtful. “I guess this makes sense with how… you’ve been lately.”

That’s a very mild way of putting it. Youngjae snorts and decides that fuck it, Jackson already knows as much as he does. He might as well know it all.

“I’ve been this way since I was thirteen,” he tells Jackson. “We call it… it’s like when caterpillars turn into butterflies. A metamorphosis. Up until that point, there’s nothing to indicate we’re any different than anyone else.” It doesn’t come out in a flood, but it feels good to finally tell Jackson. “My parents have been gone for nine months. There was… a security concern. I don’t actually know where they were relocated to, we don’t get to talk much.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jackson looks appalled. 

“It’s,” Youngjae begins and then stops, because he’s not really interested in defending this particular point. “I’m just glad they’re okay.”

And the thing is, he can acknowledge that maybe the way things are done isn’t great, but he’s saved so many and that is something he can’t just factor out. In the end, if push came to shove, he’d choose this anyway. Not out of some noble sense of duty, but just because… if he can save lives, who is he to walk away from that?

“I call it sparking,” Youngjae says, holding up his hand, the air turning blue and rippling around his fingers. That gets Jackson’s full attention. “I think my file refers to it as energy manipulation, but they haven’t figured out what exactly it is, just that… I’ve got a lot of it. Still figuring out how it works though. We’ve been running a ton of tests.”

“You never used to be able to teleport,” Jackson says, nodding, and Youngjae’s a little pleased that Jackson pieced that together. “And that’s why you always left study group so early, yeah?”

Snorting, Youngjae flicks his fingers. “At least that won’t be a problem anymore.”

Jackson narrows his eyes a little. “What do you mean?”

“... Jackson,” Youngjae says, and almost laughs, because _god._ “There’s no way I can go back to school.” 

“Why not?” Jackson asks, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him the entire time. He scoots across the couch, gets closer to Youngjae. “That’s not fair.”

“Jackson,” Youngjae repeats, gentler this time. “It’s not safe for anyone else now that people know.” And sure, he’d fought tooth and nail to stay in school, to keep that bit of normalcy for himself, but he can never put anyone else in obvious danger for his own selfish desires. “I don’t regret it,” he adds, firmly. Even if everything had unraveled so quickly, he’d make that same choice again and again and again. “This is just how things turned out.”

  
“... You’re a lot more… grown up than I thought you were,” Jackson says and then suddenly shakes his head. “Damn, you really just sat there and listened to me gas you up _all the time._ ”

It makes Youngjae burst out laughing and he collapses back against the armchair. It’s the first time he’s laughed in what feels like days. “It was pretty flattering,” he admits, still chuckling. 

“ _God,_ ” Jackson says, and reaches over to swat at Youngjae’s knee. “What the fuck, man.”

This moment is good, Youngjae thinks as he sinks into a fit of giggles at how flustered Jackson looks. It won’t last – can’t last much longer, but while it’s here, it’s _good._ He may never see Jackson again, so he wants to soak up every last second they have together.

The future has always been a big dark unknown, but never moreso than now. 

“Do you want to meet them?” 

“Them?” Jackson looks confused for a moment before realization dawns and he stares at Youngjae, eyes wide as saucers. “They’re _here_?”

“We all live here,” Youngjae says, laughing, and gets up to hold his hand out to Jackson. “Come on, I’ll show you around the Freak Lair.”

Jackson takes his hand and twines their fingers together, squeezing gently. His palm is warm against Youngjae’s. 

It feels right, like this. Youngjae doesn’t let go. If this is the first, last, and only time this happens, he’s going to make it last.

He’s going to make it last for as long as he can.


	2. OMAKE TIME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small series of outtakes/scenes that ended up rewritten to fit the overall tone of Crashing Into Orbit. Nothing is canonical except the leaderboard and #3, but I liked them enough that I wanted to archive them as ~bonus content~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to forochel bc they said make omakes great again

**[#1]**

“Now who’s doing things they’re not supposed to?” Jinyoung asks, making his way down the stairs, several thermoses of coffee in hand.

“ _I’m_ not doing anything!” Yugyeom protests as he sits up and begins fussing over the crumpled feathers on his left wing. He’s opted out of training gear for the night and his shoulder has a nice long scrape that will string for another hour or so. (A perk of being a Freak Watcher, accelerated healing)

“You’re really not,” Mark agrees, voice mild even as his eyes glint where he’s stood in the center of the training floor, the shadows he currently employed circling him like a pack of nightmare wolves. “Stop holding back, it just makes you lose faster.”

Yugyeom just looks away, focusing on his feathers, embarrassment radiating off him.

“It’s not about win or lose,” Jaebum reminds Mark as he goes over to check Yugyeom over. “This is training, we’re not enemies.”

“I’m just saying stop pulling your punches,” Mark says, rolling his eyes. “And if it weren’t about winning, we wouldn’t have a leaderboard.”

Which was a fair point, as they all glanced at where the leaderboard glowed on one wall.

  
  


Rank

| 

Sentinel

| 

Score  
  
---|---|---  
  
**1.**

| 

Mark Tuan (Ghost)

| 

98.37  
  
**2.**

| 

Youngjae Choi (Jupiter)

| 

96.98  
  
**3.**

| 

Yugyeom Kim (Zephyr)

| 

84.65  
  
**4.**

| 

Jinyoung Park (Puppeteer)

| 

84.37  
  
**5.**

| 

Jaebum Im (Fang)

| 

78.97  
  
“Take a break,” Jaebum tells Yugyeom, handing him a towel and letting Jinyoung take over helping the youngest smooth out all his feathers. “Youngjae, why don’t you give it a go with Mark?”

“Yeah, Jae, come on,” Mark calls, and his wolves lose shape, swirling around him as streaks of black before fleeing back to the shadows that lined the room, settling back in their places. “I’ll start from scratch.”

Youngjae nods and heads off to the shower room - he’s not Yugyeom, he’s definitely going to suit up. 

**[#2]**

“So are you still planning on going all soft and sweet on Mark today?” he asks pointedly, words barbed, because Youngjae would fight dirty if he had to.

It’s satisfying when Yugyeom turns a bright red. “Shut the fuck up,” he snaps back, though the menace is ruined by the fact that his wings come bursting out of the tattoo, a gust of wind whistling through the room as all the golden feathers in his wings ruffling up to mirror Yugyeom’s emotions.

“I’m just saying,” Youngjae says, fastening the last strap of his suit. “I don’t think it’s working.” But he leaves before Yugyeom can try to strangle him, because they’ll get in trouble if they break anything in the locker room.

**[#3]**

It’s not that Youngjae’s crazy about Jackson. 

At least, no more than anyone else is. 

They make an unlikely pair of friends, bridged by Bambam, playful interactions sliding into antagonism perhaps more often than it should, but maybe that’s why it works for them. Jackson is basically a celebrity in their school, a high ranking athlete with a heart of gold and maybe a bit of an ego, but that means that at least half the school is trying to get something out of him, be it connections, bragging rights, sex, or something else. Youngjae’s refusal to needlessly stroke his ego is likely refreshing.

Youngjae remembers Jackson quietly confessing that it got exhausting, having to weed through fake friends, and so the unlikely trio became his default. There's a sense of solidarity on Youngjae’s side, though he could never tell Jackson that. Much of Youngjae’s time not spent at Freak Watch headquarters was spent with them.

Really, that doesn't mean anything more than friendship, except Jackson is handsome and sweet and endlessly wonderful. It's too easy to admire him for his selfless heart and gentle nature. It's even easier to be lulled by his laughter, the time he gives freely, the warmth that emanates from him. He wasn’t perfect, but his heart was good, and something about that made Youngjae’s stomach flip.

So it’s not that Youngjae’s crazy about Jackson. 

It’s just that falling in love with him felt inevitable.


End file.
